


All I Want For Thanksgiving Is You?

by JamtheDingus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: -Ish, Food Fight, Gen, M/M, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Thanksgiving, like twice what is wrong with these boys, the heith isn't the main focus but it's still there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8675947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamtheDingus/pseuds/JamtheDingus
Summary: Heithsgiving. Idea from erikalwilliams on tumblr uwu----“How much do you usually eat on Thanksgiving? Or did you not celebrate it?” Hunk asked.“I usually just ate what the Garrison made us.”“That dried out fake turkey-mush?!” Lance gagged, keeling over the counter at the memory. “How did you live?”Keith shrugged, uncomfortably stuffing his hands in his pockets.“Well, what about before the Garrison?” Lance continued on.“I usually just ate out. Fast food.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> the confession is cheesy but... cheese is my middle name B) 
> 
> i'm sure u all can tell tho from the title so 
> 
> enjoy!

An intoxicating smell drifted through the halls of the ship, dragging Keith by his nose to the source. Straight to the kitchen.

There, elbow deep in some kind of alien stuffing, were Lance and Hunk. The two were grinning at each other, laughing at a joke Keith must have just missed.

“What’s going on in here?”

“Oh, hey dude!” Hunk cheerfully greeted, and dodged as Lance tried to splat him with the wrong-colored stuffing. It streaked across his shirt, a stark contrast of purple against yellow. “You’ll never guess what Pidge figured out earlier.”

“It’s almost _Thanksgiving_! Oh, man… I can’t wait to stuff myself silly. I’ll never have to eat goo again.”

“Technically -”

“Nope. Don’t ruin my high. No more green goo!” He yelled as a battle cry, pulling his fist from the mixture and flinging the soft dressing as high as the ceiling. “Oh, woops.”

“Allura is gonna kill you.” Hunk snickered, moving to wash his hands off. “But, anyway… Want to join us Keith?”

Keith, who had zoned out almost as soon as the other two began talking, was staring wide-eyed at the feast that lined the each and every counter. Pies, green macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes striped in orange and yellow, and even -

“What’s this?” Keith pointed to a round, deep dish. Hunk dried his hands as he wandered over and peeked down at the plate.

“A soufflé. I was going for carrot, but it might be more potato? Don’t ask me how.”

Keith frowned, poking at something that could have been Jell-O? It didn’t jiggle, though, and was warm to the touch. Gross. “How come you’re making so much?”

“Uh… Because it’s Thanksgiving?” Lance said, moving to another dish. He sprinkled a powdery substance over top, coating it in a gold dust. “We’re not even close to done yet, either. So are you gonna help or not, Mullet?”

Keith’s eyes widened, and he looked between them and the spread. “This isn’t _enough?_ Who else is coming??”

“Dude, I could eat this in like… an hour.” Lance patted his stomach, and it growled on cue. “Plus, Pidge could eat at least four times this amount in her sleep.”

“How much do you _usually_ eat on Thanksgiving? Or did you not celebrate it?” Hunk asked.

“I usually just ate what the Garrison made us.”

“That dried out fake turkey-mush?!” Lance gagged, keeling over the counter at the memory. “How did you _live_?”

Keith shrugged, uncomfortably stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Well, what about before the Garrison?” Lance continued on.

“I usually just ate out. Fast food.”

The two made a horrified noise, grabbing him on either arm. “But, _why_?”

“It seems like a lot of trouble for just one person.” Keith said, defensively turning away from their clingy hands.

At that, the two frowned at each other.

“Oh.” Lance said, and quickly let go. He shambled over to the sink and cleared his throat. “Makes sense.”

“Sorry.” Hunk meekly apologized, rubbing the back of his head.

“I’m not upset about it.” Keith said, rolling his eyes. “I just never wanted to cook a big meal when it would all go to waste. I don’t eat a lot.”

Lance snorted and gave Keith a snarky look. “I can tell.”

“You’re _lighter_ than me.” Keith deadpanned, and Lance began to splutter, slamming a pot down and splashing the liquid inside all over his hands.

“Muscle is lighter than fat!”

“That doesn’t make any sense??” Keith threw his hands up in exasperation.  

“Also I don’t think that’s right?” Hunk said thoughtfully, distracting them from their argument. “I mean, they have different volumes, but not different weights. Right?”

Lance turned up his nose and sauntered to the door. “Whatever. I’m gonna go decorate. _Keith_ can help cook, since he thinks he’s better than me.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You _implied_ it!”

Hunk chuckled, shaking his head. Lance, of course, was just giving Keith an opportunity to join in the festivities after their little revelation. “Looks like you’re stuck with me on kitchen duty.” He said, motioning the other over with a jerk of his head. “Help me with this?”

Keith looked like he wanted to argue for a moment, but his curiosity got the better of him and he wandered over. “What is it?”

“Whipped cream. You can’t have pumpkin pie without it.” Hunk declared, lifting his whisk and watching as the liquefied gunk folded in over itself. “You need a lot of arm strength to whip it manually, though.”

“I can do it.” Keith said, almost offended at the implication of the statement. Hunk placatingly put up his hands and let the red paladin take his place, pulling up another dish to work on. He just happened to choose his favorite, sweet dinner rolls (or the equivalent, given the circumstances), and cracked his knuckles as he prepared to get dough all up under his fingernails.

They stayed mostly silent for a while, Hunk humming a short tune and occasionally grunting as he kneaded the dough, and Keith glaring into the slowly thickening cream as he whipped it like it was his worst enemy.

All was going well until a large dollop splashed out and socked Hunk right in the cheek. The two made surprised noises, Keith’s more alarmed than anything, and they froze in place.

“Oh, uh… Sorry.”

Hunk got a mischievous grin, and pulled his hands back from the dough, smearing it across Keith’s face. The other cried out, and immediately retaliated by swinging his whisk like a sword, accidentally splattering Hunk across the chest.

Hunk dramatically clutched his heart and fell to his knees. “I’m hit!” He cried, and threw a hand over his eyes for good measure. “Tell my family I loved them.”

Keith got down on one knee and held his fist up, “Rest in peace.” He said, in such an emotionless voice that Hunk couldn’t help falling into a fit of giggles. The other looked confused at his sudden mirth, but smiled nonetheless.

They helped each other up, which only made their hands messier as dough mixed with whipped cream. Smelled good, though.

Of course, Hunk needed to get better revenge, so he stole the whisk right from under Keith’s fingers and hid it behind a box of instant meat. He didn’t ask how exactly Alteans figured out how to make meat instant, and he was afraid to ask, frankly.

“Hunk.” Keith frowned. “Gimme it back.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hunk whistled innocently, striding to the oven Pidge and him had made not a week before. It was working beautifully, the (rather large) alien bird that looked more like an ostrich than a turkey roasting a gentle golden brown.

“Hunk!” Keith stamped his foot. “Give me the… thingy!”

The yellow paladin snorted as he tried to hold in his laugh. “The ‘thingy’?”

“The mixing thing! The spatula.”

“The whisk.”

“I knew you took it!”

Hunk held his hands together in a praying pose and fluttered his eyelashes. “Little ol’ me? I would _never._ ”

Keith stared him down, and Hunk grinned back. Then, he dug his hand into the bowl of whip and threw it with all his might at him.

“Keith!” Hunk shrieked, licking it from his lips. The other proceeded to dump the entire bowl on him, and Hunk squealed as the cold seeped into his clothes.

“ _That’s it!”_ Hunk dove for the stuffing and grabbed a spatula, flinging it at him in a barrage. Keith yelled as he ran for cover, but took a few hits against his shoulders.

Thus started the Great Food Fight of First Space-Thanksgiving. They, of course, avoided the dishes that took days of preparation. Though, Hunk’s precious soufflé _did_ deflate in the attack. He made it known his anguish over the loss, especially when he sneak attacked Keith by dumping it on his head.

 _“What is going on in here?!”_ A voice boomed over them, stopping Keith in his tracks as he poured a slop of plain, green goo down Hunk’s shirt. Shiro stood in the doorway, arms crossed with a stern look on his face. Behind him was the rest of the team; Lance and Pidge were snickering, probably more at the fact that they were in trouble than the mess they made and the way they looked. Coran was shaking his head exasperatedly, since he was the one who would have to oversee the cleaning. Allura was doing the same, but she was hiding a mirthful smirk behind her hand.  

“Uh…”

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just… go set the table or something. Get cleaned up. Pidge, Lance, you two are on kitchen duty with me.”

“Aw- what!” Pidge griped immediately, crossing her arms as she stomped her foot. “But, I don’t know how to cook!”

Shiro just shrugged and tugged the two into the kitchen. Pidge he had to literally drag.

“Quiznak.” She muttered under her breath, and Keith and Hunk quickly made their escape before they got a _real_ punishment (probably from her).

Hunk shook his head like a wet dog, flinging whipped cream from his hair. “I can’t believe we did that. I totally won, though.” He said proudly, flipping his shirt to shake out the green goo.

Keith picked at the dough that lined his gloves. He probably should have taken them off before the fight, but oh well. “Wrong. I won.” He gestured down to himself. “I’m the cleanest.”

The other hmph’d. It was a good point. “I suppose we’ll just have to have a rematch.” He paused as Shiro’s annoyed face popped into his mind. “ _After_ dinner.”

Keith raised a brow, grinning. “You’re on.”

Hunk reached forward to pull a goopy lump from Keith’s hair. “But, uh… let’s go clean up first?”

“Good idea.”

They went to take a quick bath, separately of course, but were fast enough to meet in the hall not an hour minutes later. In fresh clothes, including a new headband!, Hunk rolled up his sleeves and lifted a tall stack of plates. “Let’s do this!”

The two worked in a smooth tandem as they set the large table. They would only need seven spaces, but it felt like home when the whole thing was filled. Allura had given them what Lance immediately deemed to be ‘fancy china’, with the intricate patterns carved directly into the plates. They would be awful to clean, but would frame the meal nicely.

A large platter for the turkey was garnished, and the individual plates for them to eat off of were placed in a neat circle. Candlesticks lined the middle of the long table, and the two shared a look as they had to light each and every one.

It was pretty, though, so they didn’t complain. The lights dimmed automatically with the more candles they lit, until it was the only source of light in the room.

The two were illuminated in a soft, warm glow and nervously coughed into their fists as they waited for the food to be brought out. Hunk slid his way to Keith’s side, and the two leaned against the wall together. “So…”

“So…” Keith repeated. He tilted his head to look up at the taller paladin. The other wouldn’t catch his gaze, though, and he could’ve sworn he saw a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

Hunk struggled to find something to talk about. Anything, really.

“How come it was only you at Thanksgiving, before?” _Except for that_. Good goin’, Hunk.

Keith looked startled at the question. “Oh. I thought you all already knew.” He shrugged then, looking forward at the flickering candlelight. “I’m an orphan. The place I was at didn’t really have enough to spend on a giant Thanksgiving every year, so we didn’t really celebrate. Afterwards, I guess the tradition just stuck.”

Hunk frowned again. “Well…” He trailed off as he tried to search for the right words. “This year, we’re gonna have the best Thanksgiving ever.”

“I’m sure, with all that food… Can Pidge _really_ eat that much, though?”

“Oh, definitely. You’ll see.”

They fell into a companionable silence after that, twiddling their thumbs as they listened to the others run around with pots and pans in the other room.

“Do you think we should go help them?”

“Shiro _did_ kick us out.” Keith shrugged. “He’s got it handled.”

At that moment, the kitchen door slid open and Lance yelled triumphantly as he and Shiro struggled to carry the bird from into the dining room.

“Dinner is _served_!” He said, and Keith and Hunk grinned.

The table was set easily with the help of the prior preparations, and Hunk and Keith helped hoist the bird onto the garnished platter. Pidge balanced four plates on her arms, and as she passed Hunk saw where they tried to clean the whipped cream off. It would probably be an interesting taste, to say the least.

But nobody complained. They crowded around the spread, and their stomachs growled in a beautiful symphony.

“I say let’s dig in.” Pidge excitedly hovered over her favorite, made specially by Hunk, the peanut butter and fudge pie. Shiro shooed her away to her seat.

“Oh, wait!” Hunk scrambled, pulling everyone (except for Keith) into a huddle. The other looked offended when Hunk pushed him towards the table, and crossed his arms as he stood around.

In a whisper, he laid out his plan to the group. Everyone perked up excitedly, and various noises of agreement shot forth.

They broke up, and Shiro led Keith to the head of the table, sitting him down before he could argue, and taking up the left seat instead.

“Uh?”

Hunk quickly stole the seat to Keith’s right, and Lance sat beside him. Pidge took up the next seat beside Lance, and Coran and Allura sat beside Shiro on the opposite side of the table.

“Like I said, we’re gonna make this the best Thanksgiving ever.” Hunk murmured as everyone dug food onto their plate. He passed him some alien mashed potatoes. “Dig in.”

Keith flushed, but took the large bowl and shoveled a small scoop onto his plate. “Thanks, Hunk.”

Shiro came forward next, with a plate of the almost-mac and cheese. “I made this one.” He informed, and Keith made sure to take a hearty helping, if only to compliment the chef. Lance dove over the table with a large leg from the ostrich-turkey.

“Here! I’m giving you the best piece, but only because I’m feeling generous.” He said haughtily, and stuck his tongue out at Hunk when he got elbowed in the side for it. “Happy Thanksgiving, dude.”

“You guys don’t have to feed me.” Keith whined, but took the offered leg.

Pidge climbed across Lance’s and Hunk’s laps to slide a slice of her pie to him. “Nope, it’s my turn! Hope you like peanut butter.” He didn’t (at least, not as much as she probably did), but took it nonetheless.

Allura and Coran were arguing under their breath as the group turned to them expectantly. Allura stood, clasped her hands together and she and Coran walked (instead of climbing over everyone) to the head of the table to give Keith a plate of… of….

“What’s this?”

“Paladin dinner! Like paladin lunch, but for later in the day.” Coran waggled his eyebrows. “I’m sure you’ll love it. _And_ it’s still full of nutrients!”

Keith tried to suppress his grimace, and managed an apprehensive laugh. “Thanks…” He caught a whiff of the mountain of yellow-green tendrils, and it _thankfully_ didn’t smell as bad as it looked. Still, though, he pushed it to the furthest end of the table as he could. He appreciated the thought, though.

Then, Lance clapped excitedly. “Wishbone, wishbone!”

“Don’t we have to finish the turkey first?” Pidge said, even as she dug around the main dish with a spork. It was quickly plucked from her fingers by Hunk.

“Hey, don’t ruin the display. It took _forever_ to get it to lay like that.”

Lance deflated, pouting his lip. Hunk grinned, though, and from out of nowhere he flipped a familiarly shaped bone into his palm.

“Hunk, you magical being!” Lance cried, throwing himself against the yellow paladin. “I love you!” Hunk chuckled, and patted the skinny boy on the back.

“Yeah, love you too, dude.”

Lance took a large bite out of his mashed potatoes before he circled the table and held out the bone to Keith in a challenge.

The other paused with a sporkful of stuffing halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“Do the wishbone with me.” Lance commanded, tapping his foot impatiently. “C’mon, this food is calling my name.”

“I don’t know how. Why don’t you and Hunk do it?”

Lance shook his head determinedly and shook the wishbone threateningly in Keith’s face. “Just pull the other end with me. Ready?”

Keith opened his mouth to argue, but Lance began a countdown. “Three! Two!-” Keith quickly grabbed onto the other end. “One! Go!”

They tugged, and it snapped like a brittle stick. The larger end went to Lance, who whooped and cheered, holding it above his head as if it were made of solid gold. “In your _face!_ ”

Keith grumbled, tossing the tiny bone to the side. “What was even the point of that?”

“Now _my_ wish comes true, and yours doesn’t.” Lance sing-songed, neatly arranging the winning bone above his plate.

“A wish?”

“Lance, you didn’t even explain the rules properly.” Pidge admonished. “Too late now, though.”

Keith shook his head and shrugged, stuffing his mouth with the delicious food. “I don’t even care anymore.” He spoke around the dressing.

The rest of the dinner was relatively calm, with an occasional argument as they all discussed the best dish.

“It’s _definitely_ the pies.” Pidge argued for her favorite. It was already half-empty, even after she ate her ‘required amount’ of actual dinner, as set forward by Hunk.

“No way, the turkey has to be the best. It’s the _main_ dish!” Lance rebutted. “Plus it’s like vegetables _and_ meat in one. And bread! It’s like its own food pyramid.”

“I liked the rolls.” Keith mumbled, and the argument skidded to a stop as everyone turned on him again. “Uh, I mean… they’re sweet. And soft?” He grimaced at his own eloquence. “They taste good?”

“I like the rolls, too.” Hunk grinned, stuffing one in his mouth. “They’re always my favorite part.”

“Yeah, I guess I can see the appeal.” Lance quickly caved, and Pidge rolled her eyes as she reluctantly made a sound of agreement. “Speaking of, do you remember when you tried to make some at the Garrison? Like, right before the holiday started.” He nudged Hunk, who embarrassedly hid his face in his hands.

“He almost got banned from the cafeteria, because _someone_ set the oven on 450 instead of 350.” Lance pointedly looked at Pidge, who whistled innocently.

“It’s not my fault! I thought they would cook faster.” She defended herself.

Shiro began to snicker. “You know, that reminds me of this one time…”

They began to trade stories back and forth, about the funny and the mildly disturbing meals they remembered. Pidge shared some of those rare, private moments of her time before her father and brother got accepted for the Kerberos mission. Lance named off all of his family members, and told each and every backstory of them, mid-way through his story of the first Thanksgiving meal he remembered having.

“Oh, wait!” Hunk cried, nearly choking everyone on their meal. “We didn’t go around and say what we’re thankful for!”

Allura and Coran shared confused looks, but took the new tradition in stride. Shiro wiped at his mouth with a napkin and motioned to the yellow paladin. “Why don’t you start, then?”

“Ooh, I guess I’m thankful for…” He tapped his chin. “All of you guys! My best buddies.” He grinned, and hooked an arm around Lance’s neck, pulling him down so that their heads pressed together. “And that we’re all together.”

“I’m thankful for Blue.” Lance said proudly. “But also, yeah… you guys are pretty cool, too. Oh, but I’m also thankful for all of the parades we’re gonna get in the future.” He nodded sagely, and he and Hunk shared a laugh over Pidge’s groan. She muttered something under her breath, but was easily ignored.

“I guess I also have to say I’m thankful for you all, then.” She said. “And for all the machines you guys help me test.” She paused for a moment, and then chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m also thankful that we’re a family.”

Shiro reached across the table to place a hand over hers. “And we’ll find the rest of your family, too.” He promised, and she gave him a watery smile and an appreciative nod. “I’m thankful for how hard you guys work, even when we’re all dead tired. I’m proud of us.” He paused. “And I’m thankful for Altean showers.”

Everyone quickly shouted out their agreements. They had _so_ many settings!

Allura clapped her hands excitedly. “I’m thankful for the paladins as well, and that you all have such strong bonds.” She grinned at the Altean next to her.  “And for Coran. He’s always there for me, especially when I’m homesick.”

Coran sniffled, clutching a handkerchief in his fist as he teared up. “Princess, you’re so kind. I’m quite thankful that you’re there for me, during those same moments.” They shared a sidehug. “I’m also quite thankful that our paladins have grown so much. We’ve become a family, I’m happy to say. Er- thankful to say? Do I have to say thankful every sentence?”

Everyone began to laugh, and started to go into an in-depth discussion on the importance of ‘thankfulness’, until Shiro quickly caught their attention.

“What about you, Keith? What are you thankful for?”

The mentioned froze, like a deer in headlights. He looked down at his nearing empty plate and shrugged noncommittally.

Lance huffed. “C’mon, dude. I’m sure you’re thankful for _something_.”

“You guys already said what I’m thankful for, I guess.” He said defensively, and frowned at the blue paladin. The other took that as a challenge and glared right back.

“Hey, now. It’s alright if you can’t think of anything Keith.” Shiro said placatingly.

Keith shot Lance a smug look. But then, he hunched down in his seat as he spoke again, “I’m uh… thankful for Voltron, I guess.”  

“Oh, me too!” Lance shot in quickly. “I said it first, so I win!”

“You didn’t even- That’s not how that works!” Pidge complained. The two began to squabble, until Shiro steered the conversation back to story-telling. This time, the Alteans took the stage as they explained their own traditions. They didn’t have anything like Thanksgiving, but they _did_ have tri-annual feasts where they celebrated each other’s personal victories. Which was basically the same thing, right?

Hunk and Keith looked at each other over the dwindling candles, and Hunk covertly motioned with his head towards the kitchen.

The two snuck off as Coran hopped on the table, regaling a tale of a feast he’d been to once, back when Altea was still around. They’d just slipped the door closed as he mentioned something about a stampede of yelmors storming the dining hall.

“Did you like dinner?” Hunk asked, washing his plate clean. With his back turned from the other, he couldn’t see the way Keith paced back and forth.

Keith quickly cleared his throat, jumping to casually lean against the counter once Hunk turned to look at him. “Yeah, it was… it was fun. But I still don’t get the point of the wishbone.”

“Well, before you pull you’re supposed to make a wish. If you get the big piece, it’s supposed to come true.” Hunk explained. “In my family, whoever got the small piece got to fill their plate first. That way, they wouldn’t feel as unlucky.”

“Oh.” Keith nodded seriously, bringing his thumb up to his mouth to nervously chew on the nail.

“What would you have wished for?”

“Huh?”

“If you had won.” He reiterated, and leaned against the counter with him. “What do you think you would have wished for?”

 _‘You.’_ He wanted to say. The thought made him clam up, though, and his face heated.

“Keith?” Hunk peered down at him worriedly. “You okay?”

Keith swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. “I…” He wrung his hands together. He wasn’t usually this nervous, which only made him even more so.

“If you don’t know, that’s okay, too.” Hunk said. “Whenever I got to break the wishbone, I would wish for something like… good grades, happiness. General stuff.”

“I don’t think I need good grades up here.”

Hunk startled, but he quickly broke out into an amused laugh, and nudged Keith with his shoulder. “I guess not, huh?”

Their hands brushed and Keith bit his lip. His pinky curled around Hunk’s larger one, and the other squeezed back. The conversation lulled in the other room, and Keith knew they would probably be wandering in soon to see where they’d gone. This would be the best chance he got.

He whirled around to Hunk, and the other, in his surprise, mimicked the motion so that they were face to face.

“I like you.” Keith confessed, tugging at their still entwined hands. Before the other could register what was said, he moved on. “Um... I had fun today. So thank you?” He cautiously stepped forward, and when the other didn’t pull away, he fully wrapped their hands together. “Yeah.”

Hunk smiled brightly. “You’re welcome.” Then he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead. “And, uh… I like you, too.” He rubbed at the back of his head as Keith floundered at the sudden kiss. “A lot.”

The two stared at each other without another word for a solid thirty ticks. Then, two identical, lovesick grins spread across their faces. Hunk swooped on him with a solid hug, and for once Keith returned the embrace.

He mumbled something against Hunk’s shirt, and the other pulled back. “What?”

“I said, I’m uh… I’m thankful for you.” He quickly stuffed his face back against Hunk’s chest to hide his blush. The other beamed like an idiot and squeezed him tighter.

“Me, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope u liked it.... ignore that it's three days late.....
> 
> i have a tumblr [here ](https://jamthedingus.tumblr.com) if u wanna talk to me about things (it's sometimes nsfw)


End file.
